


The Loud Cabin

by CaptainDodge



Category: Cabin Fever (2002), The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Bears, Blood and Gore, Camping, Gen, Police, Virus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27503746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDodge/pseuds/CaptainDodge
Summary: The Louds are headed to the country for their annual trip to Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds. Little do they know that a flesh-eating virus is spreading like wildfire through the area -- and the Louds are right in its path...
Kudos: 5





	The Loud Cabin

**Author’s Note: Hey-ho! As you’re no doubt aware, I don’t have the quickest or most reliable schedule when it comes to updates. I thought I’d try to overcome that by participating in NaNoWriMo this year! So, please enjoy this horror-themed crossover inspired by recent events (and one of my favorite movies)!**

**Special thanks to Omega Ultra and Flagg1991 for their input on this story in its formative stages!**

**I’m Captain Dodge – thank you, and have a nice day!**

(…)

Vanzilla rattled noisily as it rolled down the road, bearing the Louds to Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds for their annual mini-vacation. Lincoln listened to every creak and squeak of the venerable van with quiet dread. When the kids had torn the van to shreds in their fight over the “Sweet Spot”, he was sure that that had been the end of old Vanzilla. But somehow, Lana had managed to piece the old rattletrap back together with what he assumed was rusty screws, duct tape, and the will of the Almighty in time for the trip – a heroic feat that earned her a seat in the “Sweet Spot”. Lincoln, for his part, was stuck in the back next to Leni – which, he figured, wasn’t _too_ bad. She was in a daze as usual, and on the opposite side of her was Lucy, who was keeping to herself, reading fortunes to pass the time. She kept going on and on about “bad omens”, but he figured that that was just Lucy being Lucy.

“Almost there, kiddos!” Mr. Loud said. “Soon, we’ll all roughin’ it at Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds again!”

Mr. Loud’s announcement was met with half-hearted cheers from the girls, each and every one of whom was disappointed for one reason or another. They could have been on their way to Aloha Beach for a weekend full of sand, surf, sun, and sharks; or they could have been living it up at Dairyland Amusement Park, riding the highs and lows of all the rollercoasters. But no – Lincoln simply couldn’t make up his mind, and after milking the sisters of all the favors he could, he reversed course and decided to go to Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds after all.

More than a few of them resented him for that, and Lincoln knew it. That’s why he planned to make it all up to them, in due time. Trying to ignore the angry glares he received after Mr. Loud’s announcement, he cast his gaze out the window, trying to pass the time and divert his attention from all the stink-eye he was getting until they got to Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds. The open fields of hay grass soon gave way to trees growing more and more clustered as they headed deeper and deeper into the boonies. Their location showed in the cars they passed by, as well – what few automobiles he saw on the road were pickups, flatbeds, and once an 18-wheeler with the words “Down Home Spring Water” printed on the side, headed in the opposite direction, towards civilization.

Lincoln sighed. That’s where he’d rather be right now – staying home, not having to deal with any craziness anywhere else…

The woods thickened as they drew closer to their destination. Lincoln saw the sign denoting the town limit, but failed to make out the name of the town on the sign before it passed by. He didn’t fail, however, to take note of the population, which rested comfortably in the low hundreds. He sighed, imagining the total solitude that he had to look forward to.

This was going to be one long, uneventful weekend. Lincoln just knew it.

(…)

The Louds all stopped at a quaint little shop called “Quiddy’s General Store” shortly thereafter -- partially to stock up on any supplies they might be missing for the campgrounds ahead, but mostly so that Mr. Loud could stop and relieve himself – passing that water truck earlier reminded him of how badly he had to go. Vanzilla groaned to a halt on the side of the road beside the general store, the engine came to a wheezing stop, the doors creaked open, and the Louds all piled out, eager for a chance to stretch their legs after a long, boring road trip.

According to the sign hanging on the side of the building, the general store had been established in 1929, and it definitely showed, imparting a rustic, antiquated feel. An empty bench swing hung still on the front porch, a clunky ice machine stood opposite the building, and signs decorated the wall facing the street. One read “Antiques and Newtiques”; another read “Country Hams”; and another, confusingly, read “Do Not Sit Next To Dennis”.

“All right, kids,” Mrs. Loud said, “we’re taking a quick pit stop before we get to the campgrounds, so don’t – _hey!”_ She pointed and walked up to the twins, who were monkeying around on the bench swing in the front of the store. “You two, knock it off! Don’t go causing any damage that we’ll have to pay for…”

The other Loud children all started filing into the general store one at a time, after they had gotten the kinks and cramps out of their legs and backs. Luna, however, lingered outside, where she spied a local country band seated next to the store, playing a jaunty tune for a small crowd. Two men played acoustic guitars; one had a guitar laid flat across his lap; another had a banjo; and another wielded a bass.

Luna found herself nodding, snapping her fingers, and tapping her foot in tune to the rustic rhythm. Whoever said that they weren’t a fan of country music had obviously never heard these guys play. As the song came to a close, she found herself applauding along with all the other spectators, including several African-Americans – one of whom, to Luna’s slight alarm, was carrying a hunting rifle. She quickly realized that she was profiling, though, and put it out of her mind. This was the country, after all – of course there would be hunters around here!

She turned her attention back to the band, who were accepting tips. She tossed a few coins in the guitar case, then said, “Rockin’ tunes, dude! Hey, I play guitar myself – do you mind if I join in for a little? At least until it’s time to go – my family’s only stopping here a few minutes…”

The fat guitarist with the gray beard and overalls raised his eyebrows in surprise, but when he looked at his bandmates, he neither saw nor heard any objections from them. So, with a shrug, he agreed. “Well, sure thing, little missy! The more, the merrier!”

Luna threw up the devil horns. “Righteous! Lemme grab my axe real quick!”

Luna ran to Vanzilla, quickly fetched her acoustic from the trunk, and hurried back as quickly as she could, popping the case open and pulling out her axe. As she tuned it, she caught the banjoist eyeing her suspiciously.

“You sure have got a funny way of talkin’, young lady,” he said. “You from the city…?”

Luna didn’t fail to take note of the edge in his voice. She weighed her response carefully before giving it. “…Uh, no, dude, not the _city,”_ she said. “We’re from Royal Woods – small town, down south. You’ve probably never heard of it…”

Satisfied with her answer for the most part, the banjoist’s face shifted to a neutral expression. “Hmm…”

The fat guitarist, whom Luna figured was the band leader, cleared his throat in order to clear the tension. “So, uh, Miss, ah…?”

“Luna,” Luna said.

“Miss Luna – you ever play country before?”

Luna shrugged. “Rock’s my specialty, but I’ve experimented with all different kinds of genres, tried ‘em out – just to get a feel for their _voices,_ you know? I can dig what country lays down – a real homey, nostalgic feeling, you know?”

The band leader and his cohorts nodded, impressed by her understanding of the genre.

Luna strummed her guitar to make sure it was in tune. “In fact, it might be way mainstream, but I know a jam that really captures the heart and soul of that feeling…” She started playing an all-too familiar tune. “You dudes can join in if you know the tune…”

And they did – with a knowing look and a few smirks shared between them, they started to play along with her.

_“Almost Heaven… West Virginia…”_

(…)

As Luna joined her music with those of the locals outside, the rest of the Louds all crowded inside the general store, jostling and shoving each other in the cramped space. Some browsed the snacks; others the knick-knacks; and others the hunting supplies of the quaint little country store. The cashier, a man who looked like a backwoods Santa Claus whom they assumed was “Quiddy”, sat behind the counter, watching the Loud kids fuss and fritter about with an amused look on his face. Chuckling, he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Loud.

“These cute little’uns all yours?” he asked.

“Sure are!” Mrs. Loud said with a laugh.

Quiddy let out a hearty laugh of his own in response. “Well, well, well! How ‘bout that – these city folks are a regular Olson bunch all themselves! How many little’uns you got, huh?”

“‘Olson bunch’?” Mrs. Loud said with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, uh, first things first, hun,” Mr. Loud interrupted. He turned to Quiddy. “You got a bathroom here?”

“Oh, sure thing, mister!” Quiddy pointed out the window, then curved his point around. “It’s right ‘round back, there!”

“Thanks!” With that, Mr. Loud made a hasty exit, circling around the side of the store. Meanwhile, Mrs. Loud repeated her query.

“So, what was that about the ‘Olson bunch’?”

“Oh, well, the Olsons are a local family ‘round these parts that’ve got themselves twelve kids an’ countin’!”

“Oh, my!”

“Yessiree, ma’am – they’re quite the wild bunch!” Quiddy laughed. “I should know – Mrs. Olson’s my daughter. Matter o’ fact, them there kids out front are two o’ my grandkids, they are!” He chuckled again, then sighed. “An’ here we thought families _that_ big only existed out here in the country! How many of them kids you got, hm?”

A nervous tinge crept into Mrs. Loud’s chuckle. She didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed of the fact that the Olsons had her family beat by one child. “Uh, _heh, heh…_ eleven…”

Quiddy shook his head, chuckling. _“Hmm, hmm, hmm…_ You an’ yer husband must have yer hands full…”

_“Ugh –_ like you wouldn’t believe…”

“Oh, I’d believe, ma’am – ‘member, my family’s jus’ as big as yers!” He laughed jovially, every bit the affable patriarch that he resembled. “Why, I ‘member Winston’s fifteenth birthday like it were yes’serday – _whoa, boy!_ Them kids nearly tore the dang house apart…!”

Mrs. Loud laughed emphatically. “Oh, I know _that_ feeling all too well…”

_“Heh, heh…_ yeah. Ah, but Winston’s all grown up, now – joined the local law enforcement ‘round these parts. Fine young man – wish you could meet him…”

Just then, the pleasant conversation between Mrs. Loud and Quiddy was interrupted by a high-pitched scream, followed by laughter. Lana was waving a bottle of something in Lola’s face, and Lola, unable to get away due to being packed in like a sardine, freaked out and swatted the bottle into the air, out of Lana’s hands.

Quiddy’s eyes widened. “Oh, _no –!_ Someone catch that –!”

The bottle fell towards Leni, who fumbled with it for a few tense seconds before finally catching it firmly in her hands. Quiddy breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks aplenty, missy – that could’ve been _messy…”_

“Why?” Leni asked. “What is this stuff?” She took a closer look at the bottle.

“Oh, well that’s fox urine, that is…”

Leni’s eyes widened, and she recoiled, dropping the bottle of fox urine. _“EWW!”_

“No, _no, NO –!”_

Luckily, Lana was there just in time to stop the bottle from shattering on the floorboards, much to Quiddy’s resumed relief. “Oh, mercy… Oh, heavens… I’m too old for this kind o’ excitement…”

Lola shuddered at the thought of the contents of that bottle splashing all over the floor – likely onto _her._ _“Euugh…_ What do you even _have_ fox urine for, anyways?!”

“Oh, that’s fer foxes, young lady,” Quiddy replied.

Lola pouted, putting her hands on her hips. “Well, what do you mean, it’s _‘for foxes’?”_

“Oh, one whiff o’ that them there fox urine, and foxes’ll come a’runnin’ in ferm every corner of the county, sure ‘nuff!” He uttered a low whistle. “Thank goodness it didn’t break on the floor, there…”

Lola cringed and flapped her hands, as if shaking the very notion away. _“Ewww…!”_

Lana, on the other hand, was disappointed at the wasted opportunity. “Aww, man!” she said. “I want a fox to bring home!” She turned to Mrs. Loud, holding up the bottle of fox urine. “Mom, can we buy this? Please? _Please?”_

Mrs. Loud adamantly shook her head. “Absolutely not!”

_“Pleeeeeease?!”_

“The answer is _‘no’,_ young lady!” Mrs. Loud pointed at the shelves. “Now go put that back where you got it from – _carefully!”_

“Awwwww…!”

Sagging her shoulders in defeat, Lana trudged off to do as her mother ordered. With that minor kerfuffle resolved, the other siblings turned their attention back to their original interests.

Lincoln inspected the tall shelves labeled “Antique Glass”, with Lori assisting with those out-of-reach glasses. Quiddy would ramble on and on about the history behind each one, but Lincoln tuned him out and eventually picked one that looked especially nice, bringing it to the counter.

“Oh, now that there’s a good choice, young man,” Quiddy said. “Fine piece of craftsmanship, this is…”

“I’ll bet!” Lincoln said. “Clyde’s gonna love it, I’m sure of it!”

“Hmm? Who’s this ‘Clyde’? Friend of yers?”

“Mm-hmm! He’s got a thing for antiques. I don’t get it, myself, but hey…” Lincoln shrugged. “Who am I to judge?”

Quiddy smiled. “Well, if’n this here ‘Clyde’s as you say, then I’m shore he’ll be good ‘n pleased with this one, yessiree…”

As Quiddy carefully wrapped up Lincoln’s antique gift, Luan stepped in. “Hey, Linc,” she said, dropping a penny on the table, “mind if I chip in with a _‘penny for your thoughts’?_ _Hahahahaha!_ Get it?”

Lincoln groaned, while Quiddy looked confused. “Hmm? What’s that, now?”

“So, ‘Quiddy’…” Luan said to him, “…riddle me this: who’s ‘Dennis’?”

Quiddy looked taken aback at that. For a moment, he wavered, searching for a response. “…B-Beg yer pardon, young lady?”

“Dennis?” Luan jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, at the outside porch. “You know, the one the sign out front is warning us not to sit next to? Who _is_ ‘Dennis’, anyways?”

Immediately, Quiddy understood. _“Oh!_ Oh…” He slouched, the good cheer he had been exhibiting until then vanishing. “Oh, well, Dennis is Tommy’s kid – Tommy works… er, _used to_ work here. Always been something wrong with Dennis, but we never could figger out what, ‘xactly… See, Dennis had a bad habit of bitin’ folks, an’, well…” He clucked his tongue. “That’s what got him all laid-up in the hospital, down ways…”

Lincoln balked. “W-What happened to him?”

“What, you folks ain’t heard?” Quiddy blinked. “Oh, heck, what am I sayin’? ‘Course you ain’t heard – you just got here!” Quiddy uttered a long, low whistle. “Well, it weren’t but two days ago, bunch o’ college kids come down here ways, lookin’ ta celebrate their Spring Break out in a cabin out yonder in the woods. Now, we still don’ know much ‘bout the goin’s on what happened there, but far as I’ve heard, them kids caught some sorta disease – don’ right know what it was, but I hear tell it turned ‘em inta blood-spittin’ crazies, or some such…!”

_“‘Blood-spitting crazies’?”_ Lori said, having now joined Lincoln and Luan.

Quiddy nodded. “I tell ya what – I ain’t _never_ heard nothin’ like it before! But one thing’s fer sure: them college kids went ‘round, spreadin’ their nasty disease ever’where they went! Dennis went ‘n bit one of ‘em, like he does, an’…” He sighed. “…that’s how he done caught it. Poor Denny…”

“Wow…” Lincoln said.

“That ain’t all, neither – Tommy, Fenster, an’ Andy all went ‘n tried ta put an end to the whole thing by goin’ out an’ killin’ them kids ‘fore they could spread the disease any further –”

“Oh my gosh!” Lori exclaimed.

Quiddy shook his head. “I don’ blame ‘em – I’da done the same, if it were one o’ mine that they infected. Anyways, they all went up ta the cabin what to kill them kids, but the kids kilt _them,_ ’stead! Terrible…” He sighed again. “Weren’t ‘till Sheriff Frumin an’ my grandson Winston got involved that them kids were taken care of, and ever’thing returned ta normal…” He took a deep breath. “An’ that right there… is all what happened not but a couple days ‘go…”

By now, all the Louds had been listening in on Quiddy’s recounting of the past few days’ events. For a few moments, the only noise that could be heard was Luna and the band playing outside. Finally, Lincoln shook his head.

“Jeez…” was all he managed to say. “Where did they get the disease, I wonder?” He gasped. “D-Don’t tell me… w-was it from _the Hill People hiding in the trees?!”_

“‘Hill People’?” Quiddy said, perplexed.

_“Lincoln!”_ Lori snapped. “For the last time – there is _no such thing_ as the Hill People!” She turned to Quiddy. “I-I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to offend – it’s just this _paranoid delusion_ my little brother has…” She shot Lincoln a pointed gaze as she said that.

But if Quiddy was offended in any way, then he didn’t show it. “Oh, well, don’choo worry, young lady! No offense taken.”

“Thanks.” Lori sighed. “That aside… God, that’s _horrible._ And all of it only happened a couple _days_ ago, you said…?”

Quiddy looked dismayed at all the shocked faces he saw. “…Aw, well, _shoot,”_ he said, “I din’t mean ta put you nice folks off, now – all’s I wanted was ta tell ya what happened with Dennis, an’ I went an’ jawed off like I always do!” He sighed a third time, handing Lincoln his purchase. “Well… don’ let any o’ what I said there drag you folks down, now – you have yerselves a nice day, ‘hear?”

Mrs. Loud breathed deeply, brushing off her unease as best she could and putting on her friendliest smile. “Will do. Thanks a lot, Mr. Quiddy!”

“Aw, no – jus’ ‘Quiddy’s fine, ma’am!” Quiddy said with a dismissive wave. “Say, I don’ mean ta pry, but I’m jus’ curious, is all: are you folks stayin’ round these parts, or are ya jus’ passin’ through?”

“Oh – staying!” Mrs. Loud replied. “We were just on our way to Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds for our annual camping trip!”

Upon hearing that name, Quiddy broke out in a grin. “Ah, Scratchy Bottoms, eh? Them there campgrounds are in a fine place fer campin’, shore as shootin’!”

Mrs. Loud laughed. “Yep! You know, it’s funny – we pass by this place all the time on the way to Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds, but this is the first time we’ve actually stopped here!”

“Well, it’s shore fine ta meet you an’ yer folks, Mrs.—?”

“Loud – Rita Loud.”

“—Mrs. Loud! Hope you all have a good time, hear?”

“We’ll try our best!”

With that, the Louds all gathered up their purchased snacks and trinkets and started to leave. As they began to file out the door, Quiddy remembered something. “Oh, an’ before ya go, I feel I should ‘least warn you folks…”

Mrs. Loud stopped and looked at him. “Hm?”

“That there cabin in the woods what had them college kids catchin’ that disease?”

Mrs. Loud winced as that story was brought up again. “Yes…?”

“Well… it’s jus’ upriver of Scratchy Bottoms. Jus’ thought I’d let you all know.” Quiddy waved. “…Take care now, ‘hear?”

Mrs. Loud wasn’t sure what that was supposed to signify, but regardless, she nodded and waved back at the old man. “Ah… will do.”

With their business inside concluded, Mrs. Loud and the kids all exited the general store to wait near the van for Mr. Loud to finish his business. Each of the Loud children started doing their own thing – Lori tried texting Bobby again, cursing the lack of cell service when her texts failed to get through yet again, while Lincoln carefully packed his gift into the back of Vanzilla. Lisa pulled out a book on microbiology, sat down on the ground leaning against the van’s tire, and started reading. As she looked at her kids, Mrs. Loud realized that someone was missing. It didn’t take long for her to realize who that someone was – and even less time for her to figure out where she went. Mrs. Loud watched Luna play alongside the local band with a wistful smile on her face. She always had sort of a thing for country music.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am?”

A young voice to her right caught Mrs. Loud’s attention. She looked at the two young children manning the table that she had been leaning against. “Ah! Yes, sweetie?”

The girl who had called her gestured to the large orange cooler and the cups filled with yellow liquid on the table. “Would you like a cup of lemonade? Made by local folks with local water, straight from the springs!”

“Ooh…!” Mrs. Loud said, turning to face the girl. “That sounds nice! How much?”

“Five cents, please!”

“Sure!” Mrs. Loud fished out her wallet and retrieved a nickel, dropping it in the pot that the siblings used as a till. “I’ll take one cup!”

The girl picked up a cup of lemonade and handed it to Mrs. Loud, while the boy whom Mrs. Loud assumed was the girl’s brother poured another cup to replace it. “Thanks for your business, ma’am!”

“Well, aren’t you just a real sweetheart!” Chuckling, Mrs. Loud raised the paper cup to her lips, ready to taste the lemonade…

…but before she could, she (and everyone else in the vicinity) heard a man scream. The band stopped playing, and everyone turned to the direction the scream had come from. A few moments later, Mr. Loud came rounding the side of the building as Quiddy walked out onto the porch to see what the trouble was.

“Lynn!” Mrs. Loud said as her husband approached. “There you are! What took you so long? And what was that scream about, earlier?”

“Well, first of all, I couldn’t find the outhouse,” Mr. Loud said, casting an annoyed glance at Quiddy.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I forgots ta tell ya what the buildin’ looked like,” Quiddy said, genial as ever. “Sorry ‘bout that, mister…”

“Hmph. As for the scream, well…” Mr. Loud shook his head. “I-It doesn’t matter. Come on, honey – let’s get a move on…”

Mrs. Loud eyed her husband skeptically. “Are you _sure_ it doesn’t matter? Because I don’t think you’d scream like that unless something _was_ the matter…”

“Really, really, it’s fine! Don’t worry about it!” Mr. Loud emphasized that last point – he _really_ didn’t want Mrs. Loud, or any of their kids, worrying about anything that might potentially ruin this camping trip. The Louds weren’t able to afford vacations very often with their tight budget, so they had to make trips like this one count. “Come on, honey, let’s just go…”

Mrs. Loud wasn’t entirely convinced, but she could see that Mr. Loud didn’t want to talk about it right now. “…All right.” She looked over at Luna. “Come on, Luna, it’s time to go…”

Luna sighed, disappointed that she had to leave while she was in the groove. “Bummer, dude…” She packed up her guitar and picked it up. “Sorry, dudes, gotta run. Nice jamming with you…”

“Pleasure’s all ours, little miss!” the portly band leader said, tipping his hat.

“Oh, sure was!” Quiddy said, joining the group. “I could hear the music from inside…”

“Man, I tell you,” one of the African-Americans said, “this girl sure knows how to play!”

“I hear that, my nigga!” Quiddy said, engaging in an elaborate handshake with the black man. Luna, meanwhile, turned to her mother, bewildered.

“Did… Did he just say…?” she said.

Mrs. Loud took Luna by the shoulders and started leading her away. “Well, honey, uh… t-things are, uh, _different_ out here, that’s all. Come on, l-let’s just go…”

With their patriarch having returned, the Louds prepared to pack up and leave. Mrs. Loud remembered her lemonade, which she’d left on the kids’ stand, and picked it up, shaking her head as she walked back to the car.

“Hmph. Road trips…” she muttered as she lifted the cup back up to her lips, about to take a sip…

_“Hold it!”_

Once again, however, she was interrupted. Mrs. Loud stopped, turned around, and saw Quiddy hobbling towards them on his cane. “Almost forgot…!”

Sighing, Mrs. Loud put on her most pleasant smile. “Something wrong?”

“Oh, not with _you,_ ma’am…” Quiddy replied. He walked up to Lana and knelt to her level, leaning on his cane for support. “Little miss… ain’t there somethin’ you got that you wanna give back ta me, hm?”

Lana rocked back and forth on her feet nervously, her eyes darting this way and that. Mrs. Loud walked up to her. “Lana?” she said. “What’s he talking about?”

Lana winced, blushing. “U-Uh…”

Without saying a word, Quiddy extended his hand, holding it open with his palm faced upwards. After a few more moments of squirming, Lana folded. Sighing, she reached into one of her pockets, fished out the bottle of fox urine from earlier, and handed it back to Quiddy.

“Well, thank you very kindly, Miss Lana…” Quiddy said, carefully pocketing the bottle.

Mrs. Loud gasped. _“Lana!_ How could you?!” She turned to Quiddy. “I-I am _so_ sorry for my daughter! I swear, I didn’t know –”

But Quiddy dismissed her apology with a wave. “Oh, nothin’ to it, ma’am, really!” He looked at Lana with a smile on his face. “Devilish li’l scamp, ain’t ya? _Heh, heh, heh,_ Winston was jus’ like you at yer age, I tell ya…” He chuckled at the fond memories, gave Lana’s hat a tousle, then nodded at Mrs. Loud. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Mrs. Loud. Ain’t no harm done.”

Mrs. Loud breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you so much, Mister – uh, _Quiddy!”_

“‘Course. You take care, now!”

As Quiddy turned around and headed back to the general store, Mrs. Loud put her lemonade on the roof of the van and turned her fury to Lana. Quiddy might have had mercy on her, but she would _not._ _“Lana Loud!”_ she shouted. “I’m surprised at you! I mean, it’s one thing to defy me like this, but _shoplifting?_ Really?!”

“I’m sorry, Mom!” Lana said. “I just really, _really_ wanted to catch a fox –!”

“That does _not_ give you the right to disobey me, young lady – let alone steal from such a nice man! What is the matter with you?”

“But _Mooom…!”_

“Don’t you give me any lip, young lady! I do _not_ want to hear it right now! Just _get in the car!”_

That was definitely not a request. Not wanting to provoke her mother’s wrath any further, Lana meekly nodded and jumped into the van, where everyone else had climbed in as Mrs. Loud had been scolding her and now looked at her with reproachful eyes. Mrs. Loud shut the door behind her, then released a heavy, weary sigh. Sometimes, Lana’s animal obsession could be a _real_ handful… She shook her head, then rounded the van, heading towards the passenger seat.

“Ma’am! Wait!”

Mrs. Loud stopped, uttering a quiet groan. _What now…?_ she thought. She headed back around the van, looked at the little girl who had called her, and forced a smile. “Yes…?”

The girl pointed at the roof of Vanzilla. “You almost forgot your lemonade!”

Mrs. Loud looked at where she was pointing, and saw her cup of lemonade on top of the van where she had left it. “Oh!” No doubt it would have spilled if they had driven off without it, wasting five cents and a perfectly good cup of lemonade in the process. She grabbed it quickly, and toasted the child with it. “Thank you, sweetie!”

With that, Mrs. Loud hopped into the passenger seat, lemonade in hand, and the Louds’ unplanned pit stop was finally, _finally,_ over. The van coughed and sputtered to life, pulled away from the store and onto the street, driving down the road to Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds.

With (relative) peace and quiet once again restored, Mrs. Loud took the opportunity to finally, _finally_ taste the lemonade that she had bought with her hard-earned nickel. She savored the liquid as it passed through her lips and over her tongue, taking her time to appreciate the flavors she was tasting. The crisp, smooth taste of the spring water complimented the sharpness of the lemon juice well, giving the lemonade as a whole an all-natural feel.

Mrs. Loud looked at her cup of lemonade, amazed. _“Mmm…!”_ she said. “This lemonade is really good! Hey, Lynn, you want some?”

“U-Uh, _no thanks!”_ Mr. Loud said, wincing. Even the thought of drinking right now – especially drinking _lemonade_ – made his bladder ache. “I-I’m good, thanks!”

Mrs. Loud didn’t fail to take note of the sense of urgency in his voice. “Lynn, is everything alright?”

_“Sure!”_ Mr. Loud answered, a little too quickly. “Sure, sure, sure! Wh-Why wouldn’t everything be alright?”

Mrs. Loud cocked an eyebrow. “…Lynn, are you _sure_ you went to the bathroom back there?”

“Yes, of course I’m _‘sure’,_ Rita!” Mr. Loud snapped. “I-I’m just, uh… j-just _really_ eager to get there after this long road trip, that’s all!”

Mrs. Loud gave her husband a dry look. “…Uh-huh. Oh, well – more for me, then!” She started drinking down her cup of lemonade again.

“Can I try some, Mom?” Lynn asked, leaning up from her seat in the front row.

Mrs. Loud gulped down the last of the lemonade. _“Ah…!_ Oop, sorry, sweetie – I just finished the last of it!”

“Man…” Lynn sat back down. “Ah, whatever.”

Meanwhile, in the middle row, Lisa sat staring out the window, pondering what Quiddy had said earlier back at the general store. “Telling us that the cabin where the infected college students were staying was just upstream of our campsite…” She scratched her chin. “What could he have meant by that? Perhaps he was concerned that whatever unknown disease that had propagated itself there would spread downriver to us? If such an event were to occur, then we would likely be infected one by one, while we scramble to contain and research the disease before it spreads outside our circle…”

As Lisa rambled on about all the horrible, hypothetical things that could occur on their vacation, as she tended to do, Lucy turned back to her tarot deck. “A ‘sickness’, you say? Hmm…” She shuffled her deck again, then picked three cards at random. Once again, it was the same three cards: Death, The Devil, and The Tower.

“Nothing but more bad omens…” Lucy said. “Could this sickness be a portent for what is to come?”

Lori, sitting next to Lucy, overheard her. “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said, “but for once, I think you might be onto something with those cards…”

“I’m _always_ on to something,” Lucy retorted. “The cards never lie.”

“Well, like I said: if those cards are right, then this is literally going to be the worst vacation _ever.”_

(…)

“This is literally the best vacation _ever!”_

Lori’s sisters all voiced their agreement as the girls lounged around the campfire, watching the orange sky turn purple as the sun dipped past the horizon. There was never any doubt that Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds was in a beautiful location that was prime for the outdoor lifestyle, being situated on the shores of a gorgeous, shimmering lake surrounded by pines as far as the eye could see, the only evidence of man’s presence in the area being the two cabins reserved for this area of the campgrounds.

No, what the Loud sisters had had issue with was the camping lifestyle in general, for while Scratchy Bottoms had nature’s beauty in abundance, so too did it have an abundance of nature’s cruelty. Thieving, opportunistic bears would come scrounging for the food that the Louds had brought, always scaring the daylights out of them and often making off with their food, forcing the family to forage for their food (being unable to simply purchase more in town, as the family was on a tight budget); the mosquitoes were huge, and had an appetite for blood to match; there were no latrines in either of the cabins, so the Louds had to do their business in the woods (to “enhance the camping experience”, the campground managers claimed); and the Louds could never afford to rent more than one cabin whenever they visited, so while the parents and Lily got to sleep in comfort, everyone else had to make do in tents, sleeping on the hard, uneven ground with only a thin sheets of fabric guarding them against the elements.

But Lincoln, ever the good brother in the end, saw to it that all of these issues were rectified. Before going on the trip, he had paid for enough bug spray for, at most, twelve people out of pocket, in order to keep the rapacious mosquitoes at bay. When a bear came lumbering into the campsite during lunchtime, having smelled the burgers Mr. Loud was cooking, and started raiding the Loud family cooler, Lincoln had drawn its attention away from his cowering family (and their food) at the cost of having the bear chase him deep into the woods, getting lost, and subsequently forcing his family to go looking for him. Although the Louds still had to do their business in the woods, Lincoln had gone out of his way to dig the latrines himself and make them as comfortable as possible, providing seats over the holes and toilet paper close at hand. And Lincoln had called in some favors from Clyde to get some inflatable mattresses and heated blankets for him and his sisters to sleep on – in fact, he purchased the antique at Quiddy’s as a way of saying “thank you” to his best friend once he returned.

All in all, Lincoln did everything in his power to make sure that his sisters got to enjoy their trip to Scratchy Bottom Campgrounds as much as possible – even if he didn’t get to, himself. The only thing Lincoln couldn’t do anything about was the Hill People whom Lincoln was _sure_ were watching him and his family from the cover of the trees, waiting for their moment to strike, and do Lord only knows what…

“Why were we so against this place?” Luna wondered, lounging in her chair. She rang the cowbell that served as one of two ways to summon Lincoln whenever they needed anything else from him, and on cue, Lincoln served each of his sisters fruit smoothies that he had made from foraged wild berries (which Lisa verified were safe to eat). Lincoln didn’t mind catering to them – if anything, he owed it to them for trying to exploit them for his own benefit when they were trying to decide on a new vacation spot a week earlier.

Lana had speared two marshmallows on a sharpened stick and was toasting them over the campfire, having to lean in as the flames died down. Since Lincoln was right in front of her, she didn’t bother blowing the conk or ringing the bell. “Hey, Lincoln?” she said. “The fire’s getting a little low – could you grab us some more firewood?”

Lincoln nodded. “Sure thing!”

Lincoln hustled over to the cabin where his parents were staying, grabbed as many logs as he could carry from the firewood pile, and started back towards the camp. As he did so, he passed by the front porch of the cabin, where Mr. and Mrs. Loud were sitting on rocking chairs, sipping hot cocoa.

“I’ve gotta say, son,” Mr. Loud said, “I’m very impressed with how much work you’re doing here! And all for your sisters’ benefit, too!”

Lincoln shrugged. “Eh, it’s the least I could do for them. I mean, it’s because of me that they’re here in the first place, instead of, say, Dairyland, or Aloha Beach…”

“Ah, I didn’t really want to go to the beach, anyways. No matter which beach I go to, I always have a nagging fear that one of you kids is going to be attacked by a shark…”

“Oh, so instead, you brought us to a place where they’re just as likely to be attacked by a _bear?”_ Mrs. Loud said, laughing.

Mr. Loud snorted indignantly, but he was unable to come up with a response. Instead, he turned back to Lincoln. “Well, regardless, I’m proud of you, son – keep up the good work!”

Lincoln smiled and nodded, and would’ve flashed a thumbs-up if his hands weren’t full of wood. “Thanks, Dad! Will do!”

As Lincoln set off back towards the camp, Mr. and Mrs. Loud returned to relaxing all by themselves, away from the hubbub of their rowdy kids. Having a cozy cabin to cuddle up in meant that the two of them (and Lily) could enjoy all of Scratchy Bottom Campground’s natural splendor, while enduring none of its hardships. There was a reason that Mr. Loud kept bringing his family back here in spite of how much his kids normally hated it – and this was it, right here.

_“Ahhh…”_ he sighed. “Nothing like the end to a perfect day…”

“Hmmm…” Mrs. Loud said. “You know… I can think of a way to make it even better…”

Mr. Loud glanced over at her, and saw her mischievous smile. He quickly cottoned on to what she was suggesting, and gave her one of his own. Giggling like a couple of randy teenagers, the two of them ditched their hot cocoa and ran inside, eager to cap the day off with some loving marital coitus.

They stripped off their clothes like they were going out of style, flung off their undergarments, and jumped right into the action. The notion that the Louds were such a large family because of the parents’ incredibly high libido was not _completely_ without merit, but really, unless one has a soulmate, one cannot understand the unquenchable, burning passion that two people can feel for each other that often leads to such constant unions, of which children are the natural end result. (The other, natural explanation is that some men and women just happen to be more fertile than others, and Mr. and Mrs. Loud happened to both be very fertile.)

Mr. and Mrs. Loud enjoyed each other in all different kinds of ways, romping until they were both spent. Mr. Loud gazed lovingly into his wife’s eyes and kissed her deeply. Sex with her truly _never_ got old, unlike the two of them. He pushed himself up off of her, withdrawing from her depths, his member wet with semen…

…and blood.


End file.
